


Shared

by orphan_account



Series: Second Best [2]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Intimidation, M/M, Sexual Assault, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deimos makes sure Abel doesn't come to harm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared

The atmosphere in the lift changed the moment the navigator stepped inside. The fighters who’d been chatting rowdily amongst themselves fell silent, staring at him and at each other, sly grins on their faces. 

Cain's navigator—Abel, Deimos was sure his name was—caught Deimos’ eye as he stepped past him, offering a tight smile, and Deimos would have tried to smile back if he didn’t think Cain would kill him for it. Instead he watched with a blank expression as Abel pressed himself into a corner and looked down at his feet, curling his arms around his chest and trying to make himself appear as small as he could.

Deimos knew that'd only make things worse for him. 

“Hey. Navigator.” 

Deimos leaned away from the wall, tense now and watching as one of the bigger fighters stood in front of Abel and leered down at him with a smirk. Deimos could see Abel shaking now, fingers trembling, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Deimos fingered the blade in his pocket, one of several he had on him, and mentally readied himself for a fight—he quietly took in his surroundings: who was standing where and exactly what sort of threat they posed; who he’d have to take down first to have a better chance with the others; and formulating a solid plan lest he had to get himself and Abel out of here when things turned ugly. 

He wasn’t sure why he was bothering. The navigator had nothing to do with him and if something happened, Cain would never know Deimos had been here to stop it. But there was a part of Deimos that felt he knew Abel through Cain—they were sharing Cain, even if Abel didn’t know it yet—and he thus had a duty to protect him. Because by the looks of things Abel sure as fuck couldn’t protect himself. 

The fighter standing over Abel put two fingers beneath the pale blond’s chin and lifted his head, forcing him to meet his eyes. “What, you too good to share a lift with us, is that it? Look at me you little— Huh.” The fighter brought his hand to Abel's face and roughly swiped a thumb over his scarred lips. “I’ve seen this scar before. You must be the little slut Cain’s fucking.”

The other fighters in the lift started laughing and Abel looked mortified. Deimos stepped away from the wall, ready to cut the ugly fucker up, when the lift jerked to a halt and the navigator shoved the fighter's arm away, rushing for the doors as soon as they opened and taking off at a run the second he was out in the corridor. 

“Tch,” the big fighter said as the lift doors slid closed, folding muscled arms across his chest and stepping back against the far wall. “Who'd want to fuck Cain’s sloppy seconds anyway—you know how sick that little bastard is? Ugh.” He affected a shudder and the rest of the fighters laughed.

Deimos curled his fingers around his knife and flicked it open, slowly approaching the bigger fighter and coming to a stop in front of him. 

“What’s the matter, baby?" the burly fighter asked him, looking down at Deimos, his chest almost touching Deimos' nose. "Not paying you enough attention?”

One of the other fighters nudged him and shook his head. “Don’t. That one's Cain’s.”

The bigger fighter snorted. “Yeah? I don’t see a scar on him.” He looked back down at Deimos and lightly tapped him on the ass. “So you wanna go somewhere—get to know each other better?” 

Deimos brought his knife to the other fighters chest and pressed it there, hard, but not hard enough to draw blood. Yet. “Don’t put your hands on him again,” he said quietly. “Ever. He doesn’t belong to you.”

The larger fighter swallowed hard, looking down at the blade, and said breathlessly, “What, you fucking him too, are you? Thought you were Cain’s.” He snorted then and looked to his friends. “What is it with that weedy little shit, anyway? Can’t go anywhere without running into one of his bitches.”

Deimos didn’t answer him, but pressed the blade deeper into the other fighter’s chest, just hard enough to draw a little blood—a warning. “Just stay away from the navigator.” He looked around at the rest of them, who were watching him warily. “All of you.”

He kept his knife pressed to the other fighter’s chest until the lift stopped again. He held it tight between his fingers as he slowly backed out of the lift, careful not to turn his back too soon and leave himself open to an attack.  

“I’m gonna get you for this, you little slut! Watch your back!” one of the fighters called when Deimos finally turned around, and Deimos took off at a run to go and find Cain, not once looking back.


End file.
